Samael Drago had long been someone that believed in doing whatever is needed to win. He had racked up the wins in his long career, and not many losses. Is a loss really a big deal in a decorated career? Depends on the loss, I guess. In the CWF, back in Season 4, he had a trio of amazing matches with Kronin Reinhardt, which ended in a 2-1. Of course, Drago had lost. A normal individual might move on, or feel pity at himself. That is what comes naturally to the human consciousness. Samael Drago did something else. He climbed a rung higher on that invisible ladder. He had no choice. 

Last show, the Annwn had teamed up, which had remained a very rare occurrence since the Age of Monsters era had begun. While Viktor did his best, in the end, it was Drago’s shoulders that were down for the pinfall. Hours after that match, in the darkened carbon-esque smoke of the night, Viktor and Drago sat outside the stadium, in some nondescript alleyway. They sat on some staircase jutting out in a poor sod’s store. 

Viktor felt himself responsible for not being able to stop Apathy from pinning Drago down. He had two things in mind which troubled him. The first being that this was supposed to be a return to form for the Annwn. Eternal Grove and the Age of Monsters had taken over the CWF, and it had been going well. Of course, this meant that the Annwn had been shaded for a while. When Viktor returned as the Executioner of the Annwn and the Eternal Grove, he brought a new kind of vengeance with him. King Arawn had communicated to Drago as well, that this was going to be an era of reckoning, and accordingly, he had tasked Samael with watching over his earthly kin in Viktor. 

Drago touched Viktor on his shoulder and reassured him that the loss was not his fault. The Annwn was clearly out of form at this moment. The smoke from the chimneys and the vents of the city lightened up the dark of the alleyway. A symbolistic choice. Do the Annwn choose to be the smoke that withers but remains dormant? Or do they choose the dark, which never is dormant, but is always inevitable? 

The concept of a “loss” is also inevitable. But losing against the upcoming number one contender for his own championship would plant a seed of doubt in one’s mind. The commonfolk perhaps. But not Samael Drago. 

After his loss to Kronin Reinhardt, Drago finally accepted the monster inside him. When he looked down underneath the bed back a season ago, he finally recognised what he had to be to mark his name in this company. To finally hold the slipping vestiges of time in a timeless battle of legacy. This is what Greg Salazar did, this is what Jeremiah Vastrix has been doing, this is what Rob Riot, the Bastards, and even Abigail Dresden had done. The grasp towards an infinite pool of determination and recognition. 

The acceptance of the monster that he is, led to Samael Drago becoming the Conquest Champion. The only thing a loss can do to a man like that is to teach him. Whatever needed to be tuned and re-tuned, he understood and was ready. He fell once, he stood two steps higher, he fell the next, he stood three steps higher. He falls, he rises, he falls, he rises, he falls, he…rises. 

So, I ask again, what can loss do to a man like that? 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Scene: Dragon’s Lair, just outside the cathedral. 

Sometime between then and now

Between Midnight and Reckoning

 

“Big event tomorrow, are you ready?”

 

“As ready as I can be. I have seen her enough to expect a few things.”

 

“What about what you have been trying to accomplish with her daughter? Don’t you think Apathy is going to have something to say about that?”

 

“I’m counting on it.”

 

“Right…it’s clear that you’ve thought this through. Good luck with that.”

 

“Mick, you have been training hard for your own moment for sometime now. When you first came here, you were not sure of who you were. Or what you could become. I hope the Grove has given you what you require.” 

 

“It is definitely different. Thank you for taking time to help me through all of this. I cannot thank you enough. I have no idea why you have done this for me.”

 

“It is simple. I do not want to see anybody left behind. That is not what we as a movement stand for. You have that monster inside you, the one in the dark that everybody seems to repress. I think you are well on your way to understanding its true essence, its form. I am proud of you.”

 

Mick Brandon looks deeply honoured in his face. 

 

“Would you tell me your story? I have heard only pieces”. 

 

“Yes, I had promised I would speak of it.”

Samael Drago turns around, and walks into the garden adorning the chapel.

 

The garden was filled with green and yellow flowers, and the dark monks: the disciples, going about their day, musing about the universe’s answers as they went. 

Samael Drago stands next to a small fountain, with Mick Brandon following not too far behind. 

 

“Apathy and Eoin, I suspect, see me as someone that is just up and coming. As someone that is still learning the ropes. After all, they have misunderstood me, the Grove, the Annwn, my disciples, everybody. I will not just accuse them of this. Father Nathan, another one in this list. Even he is the same. Both these parties seem to think we represent the antichrist. I can understand the confusion”. 

 

Drago puts both his arms behind his back. 

 

“After all, Mick, I call myself Samael, after the devil himself. But if you allow me to clear up the confusion that they all seem to have, I would remind everyone that Lucifer, the other name of the devil, means Bringer of Light. Did you know that? I hope you did. 

 

And beyond this, the other side of the coin has the name Samael. Do you know what that means now? Poison of God, or Venom of God. The angel of death. Light and dark, the duality, as you see.”

 

“The sun and the moon?”

 

“Not quite. It is a sign that things are more than meets the eye. What is dark at one instance can be light the next. If Lucifer is Bringer of Light, then Samael is the angel of death. Two things exist in the same. It only requires a little bit of digging”. 

 

“When I got Sarah out from deep into Apathy’s path, I did it not to weaken Annika. I did it to show everyone that both light and dark can exist in the same. Apathy all but forgot about Sarah. She acts all high and mighty, as some sort of Goddess in the light. Remember, what her husband, another one of these hypocrites, did to Murdock’s son? Are we to forget that? Their holier-than-thou act will finally be put to an end. They have worn the veil long enough”. 

 

Drago looks back at Mick Brandon. 

 

“You asked me about my time in WSE once. I was a young man, then. Struggling, fighting. Same as I am now. The only difference is, I understood the business as a haven where you had to be a certain kind of way to succeed. True, maybe to some extent, but I learnt quickly that I could be myself, and then throw off everyone who denied me that opportunity. Trust me, it isn’t an easy path, but it’s the path I chose for myself”. 

 

Mick Brandon nods in understanding.

 

“There was a young man in WSE called Ante. Extremely talented, but was learning the ropes.There was nobody to train him, so I stepped into the picture. When my good friend, “The Alpha Male” David Falcon came up, we brought all out war to each other. We fought tooth and nail, and after his battle with me, he became one of the top players at WSE.”

 

Drago crouches down to look at the firewood collected. 

 

“I talk of the dynamic power of fire a lot. With fire, there is wood often. Here is one thing that Apathy does not get. In WSE, I once went through three stacked tables from a ladder, I have jumped off twenty feet tall cages, and even scaffoldings around the titantrons. I have even come close to losing my life on many of those occasions. I have seen your matches, Apathy, and frankly, they have never come so close to death.”

 

Drago grins. 

 

“Yes, death. The sweetest sound on a hellfire night. The freedom and the sense of life you earn when you are close to it. When has Apathy ever been close to it? And let me not talk about Eoin. He has somehow equated God as my enemy. He has completely missed what or who we are. Therefore, no one is going to remember his name.”

Drago clenches his fist as he keeps sermoning. 

“In WSE, I was a two time world champion, a hall of famer, and the fifth triple crown champion. I have won numerous awards for who I was between 2012-2014. Superstar of the year, greatest tag team in history, greatest feud awards. The list goes on. Oh, don’t get me wrong. Awards mean nothing if you cannot back it up. Fortunately for all those watching, I actually backed all of them up.”

 

Mick stands quietly, taking everything in. 

 

“You see, I did all of that. And I did all of that before the age of 18. Therefore, to understand me as someone that is only just starting, as a rung below, is the gravest mistake of all”. 

 

Suddenly the leaves of the forest rustle with the sweet susurrus that one longs for on an autumn evening. 

 

“The wind, yes, it was my friend once. But it has left my side recently. It always leaves the side of the ones that fly on their own. I will go now, Mick. Remember, dark is in everybody. Only those that deny it live on as hypocrites”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Some distance away from the garden of the Grove, lies an opening, a sort of a low lying valley of tulips. Surrounded by green hills all over. 

It was a gray and cloudy sky. A good day for promises. 

Sometime between tomorrow and today.

 

Samael Drago walks in wearing a black robe. The kind you see on men who know too much. 

As Drago walks into the beautiful valley of flowers, the dark monks nod.

 

“They are as ready as you want them to be, my Lord”, one of them says. 

 

“Good, I was expecting a smaller show. But it looks like it is as full as it can be”. 

 

Drago nods at the dark monks as if to signal them to start. 

 

One of the monks answers the nod with a slowful start to the beating of drums. Big and cylindrical, as if an ancient monument itself.

 

The sound reverberates through the open green valley. 

 

It starts slow, the rhythm. With repeat intervals, there is a loud boom. 

 

Samael Drago slowly takes off his robes, revealing him to be naked underneath. 

 

One of the other monks starts playing the hurdy-gurdy. Someone else starts playing the flute. 

 

Samael Drago starts moving his head to the rhythm and the music as if a snake swaying to the charmer. 

 

As his eyes close, Drago continues to move to the music, starting to kneel down into the green grass. 

 

“The wind once took my hands. But now it does not speak to me anymore. I did not betray it. And yet, it does not look at me. Nor does it embrace me any longer.”

 

The music and the rhythm of the drums pick up. The sounds, it would remind one of baroque folk music. Something that can be heard in a household burnt down after fire, the ghostly echoes of what once was. 

 

“O wind, hear my prayer. I give to you the earth and its arguments”

 

Drago touches the ground. 

“To require you to fly, ironically one must remain tethered to ground. Apathy and Eoin, you took Murdock and his son, and made yourself out to be the hypocrites that you are. Now watch as your own life burns. The earth will devour you, Elizabeth.”

 

The rhythm and the music turns higher pitched.

 

“O wind, in your wisest essence, I give to you the water and its arguments”. 

 

Drago touches the singular stream of river in the field. 

 

“To adapt is the biggest advantage on this earth. As the old ends, the new begins. The Grove did it. Now comes for the old to make way for the new. Apathy, your time is past. Do you hear this cipher?”

 

The rhythm now turns intense and intense. 

 

“O wind, in the finality of this eulogy, I give to you myself and my arguments”. 

 

Drago extends his arms out, and dances to the rhythm in a trance. 

 

“Elizabeth, karma will eventually catch up with you. Your ignorance of those in pain, your Sarah, your own favouring of your daughter, your husband’s nonchalance, all those things reinforce you as apathetic (ironic, isn’t it?). Do not let your head hover high owing to the last loss. I am still going to put up the biggest fight necessary to put you down. Do not think me to be the devil. For even the devil himself will take you in at the end of this life. The difference is, I will not. You made your choice when you did not accept your inner monster. And truth is, you know, even if you did, I will not take you in.”

 

Drago closes his eyes.

 

“You represent an era that only deserves to be loved in the pages of history now. You will break. You will crumble up under the pressure of something far beyond what you have experienced. I come with the mission to make you and everyone else pay for their misgivings. I will snatch you one after one, and clear the path so that the new can get their day instead of you hogging the light, as if it is some rightful prize.”

 

Drago gets up slowly and walks to the river. 

 

The music still playing, a mysterious pagan tune. 

 

“When men are pushed to their limits, the inner monster awakes. I promise I won’t go easy on you. If you are the legend everybody says you are, I will give you one more match to goad about once you are gone. For you to say one day that there was a man. A powerful man. Who was both light and the dark. Who was both the messiah and the destroyer. The preserver and the killer. You will say that this man brought you out from your own apathy, and made you realise that things, some of which, you crave for,  a house, a home, a family, will never endure as long as you stand on the shoulders of hypocrites. Saying that this man beat me, and I am all the more thankful for it.”

 

Drago then looks at the river.

 

“And when I plunge into this deep waters, let it be known, O wind, that I do not need your guidance. You need not speak to me anymore.”

The wind picks up speed just then, and blows as hard as possible.

“You may go fly Apathy out, and save her from the earthly grimace that comes her way.”

 

Drago closes his eyes again, as if he can hear the mysteries of yesterday and tomorrow.

 

“Know when I plunge in, I am dividing the muscles in your heart. Soon for you to understand that I am the reason you will breathe easier when you are out of this place. Tell your daughter, tell your husband, and tell yourself. The Moonchild has come.”

As he says this, Drago plunges into the river. He does not come back up for a good few minutes.

The music stops. 

Finally, he rises. And stands in the waters. His raven hair flowing down wet. 

There is only one word he speaks to his followers. 

“...Apathy……”